Pour Some Sugar On Me
by blackkitty95
Summary: Modern AU. College student Sansa Stark goes to the hottest club in town with her friends Margaery and Loras Tyrell; there she meets the bouncer, a burned man known as The Hound.
1. Chapter 1

This is inspired by _Chapter 5: Sansa_ from** justadram's **_A City of Fortune and Failure_. I have asked for her permission to write this, and she has very kindly and graciously granted it. Only this chapter is inspired by her work; the following will come exclusive from my crazy mind and the story has nothing to do with ACOFAF. By the way, I strongly recommend that fic.

The title is taken from the Def Leppard song (because it's awesome and I suck at coming up with titles myself).

This fic is unbeta'd and English isn't my native language, so try to excuse any mistakes and enjoy!

* * *

Fortunately she had had something to eat before the pre-parting in Loras's flat. Otherwise she would be teetering on her high heels now, for a certainty.

When she became friends with Margaery at college, it didn't take long for her to notice the picture of her roommate's absolutely gorgeous older brother on Facebook and on Instagram. It was kind of love at first sight, in an internet sort of way. She cyber stalked him a little (she never told Margaery), seeing what kind of music he liked, which books were his favourite, and of course what sort of girls he was friends with. Soon she began to daydream what it would be like if she dated him. They could marry, and she and Margaery would truly be sisters.

However, when she first met Loras, she was so nervous that she could barely form a sentence.

It got better eventually. Loras always had a smile on his beautiful face, and he was friendly and flirtatious, which made him easy to talk to. She never asked Margaery what her brother had thought of her on their first encounter; she had been so silly, such a stupid little dork.

Not anymore.

Now she could actually walk arm in arm with him _and_ have a proper conversation with him at the same time. Which is exactly what they did when they got out of the cab. Margaery was texting someone, so she got no part in their conversation. Sansa didn't mind; that way all of Loras's attention was on her.

It almost caused her physical pain when Loras let go of her and went to talk to the bouncer. She looked at the building before her. It was black with its name spelled in red neon, like blood. King's Landing had been the talk of the town when it first opened its doors to the citizens of New York. Everyone knew it and everyone wanted to be there. And now Sansa was there.

The bouncer pulled back the door, his body still half blocking it - he was a big man. Loras had to slide by with Margaery shimmying in behind him, her hips swaying in an almost provocative way. Sansa knew that many men would offer to buy her a drink that night. Margaery was oh so beautiful and she charmed everyone.

The Tyrell siblings did not look back to make sure that she was following them. It's not that they didn't care about her, Sansa knew that they did; it's just that they were set on pursuing their pleasure and they never let a moment go to waste. Sometimes Sansa felt overwhelmed and lost, but she would never ask them to slow the pace with which they lived their lives. She loved her friends just as they were.

She hurried to follow them, not wanting to be alone outside of the club.

She stepped forward, but the bouncer held out his arm, so her chest bumped into his thick forearm. She let out a gasp.

"Careful, little bird," the bouncer rasped.

She looked at him. One side of his face was burned, the skin red and covered in scars. She could even see a hint of bone on his jaw where his flesh had been seared off. She gulped at the horror before her.

He grinned down at her, more a baring of his teeth than a real smile. He didn't pull back, so she took a step back. A shiver went through her.

"I'm with them," she said nervously, twittering like the bird he had named her to be. She would not leave. She would not run and hail a cab or perhaps run all the way to her flat in her panic. She was finally in King's Landing and she would not let a rude, scary bouncer make her go away. _Courtesy is a lady's armour_, her kind mother always told her, so she smiled at the bouncer and ignored the ruin of his face. "Will you let me through, please?" she asked.

His grin widened, and for a moment Sansa feared that cracks would appear on his face and she would see the rotten skull that lay beneath. Fortunately, life was not one of the horror movies that her brother Bran loved so much.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," the man said sarcastically and lowered his arm.

She almost ran, slipping through the open door and not looking at the bouncer. She had seen enough of him.

The crowd of the club closed in around her. The music throbbed in her ears and in her chest. The lights almost blinded her. It was perfect.

The bouncer was forgotten.

She squeezed through gaps in the crowd and, in what felt like a century later, managed to get to the bar. There she found Margaery with two Cosmopolitans, one in each hand. She offered the one drink to Sansa.

"Thanks," Sansa said. She appreciated her friend's gesture; she might have left Sansa behind, but she cared about her enough to order one of her favourite cocktails for her. Smiling, she took a delicate sip, whereas Margaery swallowed half of her drink.

The music was so loud that they had to whisper in each other's ears. Sansa was so excited to be there that she wouldn't mind going deaf.

"Do you like it?" Margaery asked.

"Yes, it's amazing!" Sansa looked around until she spotted Loras; he was so handsome that he was hard to miss. It was also hard for her to miss that his head was bent in towards a dark-haired man around his age. "Who is Lors talking to?"

Margaery looked at her brother and smiled. Sansa thought that the smile was mystical and had a meaning secret to her. "That's Renly. He's a friend and one of the club's backers." She looked at Sansa and winked. "I told you we'd have no problem getting in, darling."

Sansa smiled and decided to move her blue eyes over to the crowded dance floor. She didn't want to appear as too interested or desperate. She had no idea if she was doing a good job at it.

She spent the rest of the night dancing with Margaery and drinking with Margaery. Loras never left Renly's side in order to join them, but the more she drank the more unimportant that became. All that mattered were Margaery's arms around her, the writhing bodies around them, the music, the lights, and the sweet alcohol running down her throat. As long as she had that, she could forget all about her problems, and Loras who would never be hers, and that horrible bouncer.


	2. Chapter 2

**I swear, not all chapters are going to be about Sansa going to the club and seeing Sandor. Really.**

**Thank you for the feedback, I love it!**

**Oh, by the way, of course all rights go to the one and only GRRM.**

* * *

"What do you say we go to King's Landing tomorrow?" Margaery asked.

Sansa stopped reading the book she had in her hands and looked at her friend. Their first time at the club had been almost a week before, and no day passed that Sansa didn't think about it. It had been a truly magical night.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Is Loras going to come too?" she asked, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Margaery smiled a little sadly and Sansa internally scolded herself for coming out as so interested. Now her own friend pitied her for wanting Loras. But why couldn't she have him? He was single and very nice to her. Why wouldn't he like her as something more than a friend? They had similar tastes and got along very well. There was great chemistry between them and they looked so good together, like a prince and a princess. Why couldn't she live her own fairytale?

"He has plans for the weekend," Margaery said.

At first Sansa was disappointed. She loved being around Loras.

But then she remembered that night at the club. Loras hadn't joined them. He hadn't even talked to them once since they stepped through the gates of King's Landing. He had only seen them safely inside the cab but hadn't returned home with them. He would stay at the club, he had said. What was so interesting about this Renly anyway? Had the two of them been apart from each other for so long that they had a lot of catching up to do?

She realised that her thoughts were unhealthy and venomous, so she shook her head in an attempt to get them out of there. She couldn't blame Loras for wanting to spend time with his friend. He had been ever the true gentleman to them in his flat, but he had a life. He had other friends, friends of his gender with whom he could talk about men stuff, friends of his age. Besides, she had spoken with Renly a little before she and Margaery left the club, and he had struck to her as a good man. Sansa had thought that he was one of those people who always had a jest on their lips and a smile on their face, people that it was hard to get mad at.

She smiled. Margaery was her best friend, and a girls night out with her was always great. A girls night out with her _at King's Landing_ would be absolutely awesome.

* * *

Saturday night finally arrived, and Sansa Stark welcomed it wearing a white dress that clung to her body and pointed out her soft curves. Her feet were warmed by black high heels shorter than Margaery's, yet Sansa still stood a little taller than her friend.

She was as excited to be there as she had been the first time, even though now she had her arm around Margaery's instead of Loras's. The two of them were siblings and looked so much alike (some said they might as well be twins) that Sansa sometimes felt almost attracted to her roommate.

Margaery was wearing a pale green dress, shorter than Sansa's, and the two of them walked like nothing could affect them, like they owned the world. Margaery bathed in the admiration of the people around them, whereas Sansa felt flattered but uncomfortable as well.

The illusion shattered when they reached the door and Sansa saw the bouncer. She had chased away all thought of him, convincing herself that he had simply been a bad dream. And yet there he was, just like the first time, guarding the door. He was just like she remembered: over six feet tall, dark hair almost brushing his broad shoulders, one side of his face ruined by fire.

He looked at her from tip to toes, and she felt a shiver through her spine. His eyes on her did not make her feel flattered. They only made her feel uncomfortable. Notably, not as much as she might have expected.

"Well well well," he rasped in that deep voice of his that she couldn't get out of her head. "The little bird has come back."

She remembered the nickname he had given her as well. It was like she had locked everything that had to do with him in a little box inside her mind, vowing to herself that she would never unlock it, but now that she saw him the box broke open and all its contents were spilling out.

Courtesy had helped her once, so she decided to play that card again. "Could you let us through, please?" she asked, daring to meet his grey eyes for a few heartbeats.

The fact that she had managed to hold his gaze, even for a little while, seemed to amuse him. He grinned, the burned side of his mouth twitching slightly. "The pretty little bird is always so polite," he mocked her. He opened the door and let them pass.

She smelled alcohol on his breath as she went by him. She frowned when she had her back on him. He was an employee, not a patron; was he allowed to drink when he was still working? She guessed not, but she also guessed that very few people would have the courage to go and tell him what he could and could not do.

As they stepped inside, Sansa let the music pierce her ears and her heart. The lights caressed her like a long-lost lover. Hand in hand, she went with Margaery to the bar.

When the bartender placed a Meyer Lemon Rosemary Gin Fizz in front of each, Margaery looked at her and smiled mischievously. "He likes you," she said before taking a generous sip of her drink.

Sansa blinked. "The bartender?" she wondered. He had barely even looked at her.

Margaery chuckled. "No, silly. The bouncer."

Sansa's lips parted. "I doubt it," she said and sipped at her drink.

"He has named you little bird."

"It's meant to be offensive." Margaery was a clever girl, surely she could see that. Couldn't they just let the matter go and talk about something else?

"He called you pretty," Margaery insisted.

That he had, although at the time Sansa had believed that that was meant to be offensive as well. But if it wasn't, why should she care? Why would she find it nice that this beast of a man thought that she was pretty?

She wanted to turn the conversation to a different topic, but instead she caught herself doing the exact opposite. "Who is he?" she asked.

"I don't know his real name, but I'm sure he has one," Margaery replied. "He is known as The Hound."

The Hound. Sansa repeated it in her head a couple of times. She supposed that it was a good nickname for a bouncer, even though that was the last reason why people would be afraid of him.

"What happened to his face?" she inquired, taken aback by how intrigued she was all of a sudden.

Margaery shrugged. Sansa thought that she saw something glimmer in her brown eyes; was it amusement? "No one really knows, sweetheart. I've heard a few stories but I don't know which one tells the truth, if any. Ask around, and everyone will tell you a different version of what happened. Now drink up, girl; I want to dance and flirt, not sit around and talk."

So Sansa drank up, almost absent-mindedly. She didn't even notice as Paris Hilton passed her by, telling her friends that the club was hot. Sansa's mind was somewhere else entirely. She thought of that terrible man outside, who drank when he wasn't supposed to, who insulted her and called her pretty at the same time. What was the true story of his scars?

And why was she so interested anyway?

She followed Margaery to the dance floor.


	3. Chapter 3

_"I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all mankind?"_

Sansa was spending her night reading Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_. She was sitting in her bed, her back supported by the headboard, her legs drawn up, the book lightly touching her lap. Usually she devoured the words of every book she had chosen to hold in her delicate hands, but tonight she could barely concentrate on the words that came to her all the way back from 1818.

Margaery was out on a date, and for some reason, unbeknownst even to her, Sansa was now feeling as though the walls around her were closing in around her. She wanted to get out. She wanted to lose herself in the arms of the city she loved.

She was out now, walking. She had no idea how long she had been walking. She wasn't even certain of where she was. Her thoughts were running around in her head like flies around a corpse. They had consumed her, leaving no room for other thoughts.

"Your money or your life, bitch."

At that moment she woke out of her trance-like state. She took in her surroundings, noticing that she was in a dark alley. She had thought that she was alone, but now she saw that there was a small man in front of her, holding a knife in his hand and extending it to her. His eyes were the eyes of a mad dog.

She supposed that she should run, hoping that as she was young he might not be able to catch up with her. But she couldn't do that. She was frozen to the spot. She was so shocked - and afraid, although somehow the shock was stronger - that she couldn't move. She could do nothing but look at him with her pink lips slightly parted.

"Give me your money!" the man insisted.

And then she remembered: she had left without taking any money with her. She had only wanted to walk around a bit, so why should she?

"Please," she said, "I don't have anything to give you."

"You lying whore!"

She closed her eyes as she expected him to attack her, but not before she caught a glimpse of a shadow grabbing the small man. Something hit against the brick wall, close to her. Then, something fell unceremoniously on the cold ground. Still, she did not open her eyes.

"You're all right now, little bird. You're all right."

She knew that voice. She would recognise it anywhere. Could it be? Should she allow herself to hope, or was her mind playing tricks on her after all those thoughts that had occupied it?

She forced her eyelids to move and she saw him. The long black hair, the grey eyes, the hooked nose, the horrible scars. There it was, the face that she couldn't get out of her head no matter how hard she tried to.

She realised that she had fallen on her knees at some point, probably when she closed her eyes. The Hound was extending his arm to her, and she gratefully took his big hand and stood up with his help.

"Thank you," she said. "I-"

"No need to thank me, little bird," he said, releasing her hand. "Where do you live?"

When she told him, he nodded. "Good," he said, "you're not far from here. I'll walk you to your place."

She smiled at him, but he didn't see it because he turned around and started walking. The smile melted off of her face and she almost let out a sigh. She followed him, gratefully noticing that he had not set up a quick pace so she could catch up with his long strides.

They fell in deep silence. The Hound didn't seem to mind, but she was uncomfortable. She always filled silences with mindless, meaningless chatter. Now, however, she didn't know just what to say. That she wanted to know more about him? That she couldn't stop thinking about him for some reason?

"Did you hit his head against the wall?" she asked, guessing that that was what she had heard. When the words left her mouth, she almost hit herself. That was such a stupid question.

"Yes," he merely said, looking straight ahead.

"I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going," she confessed, speaking a little fast. "That never happens to me. I should have been more careful."

"Yes, you should have, you stupid little bird."

Her lips formed a small o, but he didn't see that either because he still had his eyes fixed in front of him. She knew that the nickname he had given her was supposed to be offensive - even though tonight he had used it with something that could be characterised as tenderness and fondness when he told her that she was all right - but in their last encounter he had called her pretty little bird. She didn't like the adjective he had used now.

"I was thinking of something," she said in an attempt to prove that she wasn't just a stupid girl who got out with no idea of where she was and where she was going. "That something won't let me concentrate these days."

"What is that something?" he asked, intrigued.

_You_, she almost said. She stopped the word before it escaped from her lips. She could imagine his reaction. He would laugh at her face and call her stupid again. Or, he would pin her to a wall and have his way with her. Alternatively, he would tell her that he was interested only in real women and she was just a silly girl. She didn't know which of these scenarios was the worst one.

"That's none of your business!" she snapped at him.

He chuckled and finally graced her with a short glance at her. "The little bird has a bit of a she-wolf inside her." He sounded amused but also almost proud.

neither of the two said another word, but shortly afterwards they reached their destination. He finally turned around and looked at her. The ruined side of his face was almost lost in the shadows.

"Thank you for saving me," she said. "You were so brave."

"Brave?" He grinned maliciously. "A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats."

She looked at him defiantly, a little angrily. She was expressing her gratitude to him; couldn't he be nice for once? "You saved me," she said as though to remind him of what he had done. "It is rude to not thank you."

"Action speaks louder than words."

She looked at him, blinking rapidly a few times. What did he mean? What would he do to her, with her? And how would she react?

"A date, little bird," he explained.

She supposed that the reasonable thing to do would be to tell him that he couldn't make her go out on a date with him just because he had happened to be in the right place at the right time and he had saved her. Instead, she apprehended that she was not in the least insulted or angry. She was actually warming up to the idea.

"Okay."

He was trying to not show his relief, she noted. How many times had he asked a woman out? How many times had he been rejected? She recalled the words of Frankenstein's Creature, the words she had read that very night. She felt sorry for the man in front of her.

"We haven't been introduced," she remembered. "I'm Sansa."

He took her extended hand and shook it. "Sansa," he rolled her name in his tongue like some sort of exquisite wine. She shivered, and it was not because she was cold or afraid. "I'm Sandor."

She smiled and noticed that her delicate hand was still sheltered in his large one. He seemed to notice as well and slowly let it go. She missed the warmth of his skin instantly.

"I'll pick you up at 8 tomorrow."

* * *

Thank you all for the amazing feedback! You know how much I love it xxx


	4. Chapter 4

_Yay, the date! I don't know if I like this chapter that much, but I had to post something because real life has caught up with me and I'm going to be very busy..._

_Thank you all for your lovely support!_

* * *

Sansa had been anxiously anticipating her date. Her mind was filled with question marks. She didn't know what to wear. And she didn't know what to expect. Where would Sandor take her? What would they talk about? All those thoughts made her head almost ache.

And there was one more question: should she tell Margaery?

The brown-headed girl was her best friend. Sansa had never kept anything secret from her, apart from her crush on Loras. But that was only because she was embarrassed.

It was strange, thinking of Loras now. She hadn't done so in quite some time, but now she could not help but compare the two men. Loras was sweet and charming, with a smile never far from his - what Sansa could only imagine - soft lips. Sandor, on the other hand, was a hard man. He was tall and broad and muscular, and he seemed to have no manners. And his face...Sansa vividly remembered his scars, the raven hair miserably attempting to cover them. He could have been handsome, in a way, without them. But even so he would not be like Loras. And yet, Sansa realised that she had never reached this level of anticipation when she was to hang out with Margaery's brother.

She also realised that she had to tell her friend about her plans for the night. However, a part of her dreaded that conversation. How would Margaery react when she was informed that her best friend - whom she considered as her little sister - was going to go out with a big, scarred man known as the Hound?

"So you never told me about your date last night," Sansa began, slowly steering the conversation to the hot topic.

Margaery shrugged carelessly and gracefully. "It was okay. He bought me my drinks and we made out a bit, but that's it."

"So you're not going to see him again?"

"Nah."

"Well..." Sansa cleared her throat. It shouldn't be so hard to tell her friend the truth. Okay, Sandor wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but he had rescued her. And she was certain that he hadn't been on many dates because of his face, and that was just sad.

"Well," she tried again, "_I_ am going to see someone tonight."

Margaery's eyes widened briefly and then a huge smile appeared on her kind face. It was evident that she was interested and happy. "Oh, Sansa, that's wonderful! Who is the lucky guy?"

Sansa bit her lower lip before answering. She wasn't ashamed of agreeing to go on that date, so she shouldn't be nervous about the way her friend would take it. "The bouncer from King's Landing," she announced.

"The Hound?"

"Yes."

Sansa hadn't believed it possible, but Margaery's smile widened. "Oh, Sansa!" she exclaimed before enveloping the auburn-haired girl in her arms. "I told you that he likes you!"

A part of Sansa still wasn't all that certain concerning that. He had asked her out of course, but he didn't seem to appreciate the fact that she was polite and instead mocked her for it. What if he was simply trying to take advantage of a girl who was so courteous that she would not deprive her saviour of his reward? She hoped that this was not the case. She had been out on a date only once because the first experience had been terrible. Joffrey Baratheon was the handsome prince that she had dreamed of ever since she was little. He had been so charming and courteous, and Sansa had believed that she was in love. He had driven her to her house, but instead of giving her a chaste kiss as she had expected, Joffrey's hand had found its way between her legs. Sansa had struggled with him and had managed to get out of the car. She had run to the house screaming for her parents. By the time they got to her, Joffrey was gone. And so her last year of high school had ended. This would be her first date as a college student, and she prayed with all her might that Sandor would not turn out to be like Joffrey.

Margaery was aware of all this. She had tried to set Sansa up with certain guys that she knew, but Sansa had refused. She knew that Margaery did this because she cared and if she said that they were good guys they most likely were, yet she had refused all the same. She hadn't felt ready.

And now she was going to go out with a man who was older than her, rude, with a ruined face.

"Better take a cab to get back here," Margaery counseled while still embracing her. "Don't get into his car."

* * *

Sansa couldn't get into his car even if she wanted to, because he showed up with a black beast of a bike. Sansa didn't know much about motorcycles, but she could tell that before her stood a Harley Davidson.

Sandor wore a black T-shirt and black jeans. The only colour on him were his grey eyes, looking at her from top to bottom as she walked towards him. She looked down so that he wouldn't notice the colour of her cheeks.

"Fuck, you look lovely, little bird."

She blushed again but decided to look at him this time, hoping that the redness on her cheeks would be partially hidden in the darkness of the night. "Thank you," she said. She almst added 'so do you' but she knew that he would only laugh at her and make a cruel remark about his face. "Nice bike," she told him instead.

He looked at it for a moment and smiled, proud of his possession. "That's Stranger," he said as if he were introducing her to a real person. He handed her a helmet.

She took it hesitantly and looked at him. "Um...I...I've never got to ride a bike before," she said slowly, afraid that her confession might insult him since he seemed to be a fan of this particular type of vehicle.

He grinned. "I'll go slow then," he said. "Put that helmet on and climb behind me."

She did as she was told and was glad that she had chosen shorts over a skirt and ballerina flats instead of high heels - both black, just like his hair, his clothes, and his bike. She tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, but he took her arms and wrapped them around his torso.

"Don't want you falling of, little bird," he said and she could hear his grin in his voice.

In spite of that, she never once moved her arms during the ride. If anything, she pressed her legs tighter against his and prayed that she wouldn't fall. She knew that she was being far too intimate, but in that case being safe came before being appropriate.

When they reached their destination, she slowly let go of him. Only when her feet touched the ground did she realise that the ride had not been all that bad. It had actually been rather thrilling.

"You liked having your arms and legs around me, didn't you?" he asked with amusement as she gave him the helmet.

She had hoped that he wouldn't bring up the embarrassing fact that she has held on to him rather too tightly, but of course she should have known better. She cleared her throat. "Um, I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologise, girl. I liked it too."

Her cheeks burned as they walked. All of her burned. Her heart beat faster. Even the area between her legs was pulsing.

She noticed that he was walking her to a place called Flea Bottom. She hadn't even heard of it. It seemed to be a diner. She hadn't expected the man by her side to attend to fancy restaurants and she hadn't been wrong.

Flea Bottom looked alright. It was clean and the people seemed to enjoy the food. There were families and bunches of high school and college students. She didn't notice any couples, but she wasn't all that surprised; Flea Bottom wasn't an ideal place for a date.

They took their seats silently, facing each other.

"I've never been here before," Sansa admitted.

"Of course you haven't."

Sansa fixed him with her stare. "I happen to like places like this," she said defensively, "I simply haven't been_ here_."

"Well, _here_ is where I've taken you tonight whether you like it or not."

She took a deep breath. The date had now started with tension and Sandor being - of course - rude and pointing out that they were from two different worlds.

"I like it," she said, trying to make amends. "Do you come here often?"

"Yes," he replied calmly. "They have killer burgers."

Sansa looked at the menu. A small gasp escaped her lips as she noticed the desserts. "They serve lemon cakes!" she exclaimed.

Sandor appeared thoughtful. "Never had them," he said, "dunno if they're any good."

"Lemon cakes are my favourite," she confessed happily. Flea Bottom rose to a new level in her eyes.

When the waitress came, both of them ordered burgers. And then, Sandor asked the waitress to bring them lemon cakes as well. Sansa looked at him. surprised that he would show any interest in her favourite dessert, and smiled sweetly at him when the waitress left.

"You didn't have to order lemon cakes."

"You said you liked them. Do you want me to call the waitress and tell her to cancel it?"

She let out a small laugh. "No," she said with an angelic smile. "I really appreciate it."

He shrugged. "I'll get the chance to see why you like the damned things so much."

She took a delicate sip of her water. "I hope you'll like them," she said. "If not, more lemon cakes for me!"

"Don't be greedy, little bird," he said with a grin.

She chuckled. "You can call me Sansa, you know."

"Don't you like me calling you little bird?"

In fact she did. It was too familiar for a person who hardly knew her, but she liked it. It had started as an insult, but somehow, somewhere along the way, it had become an endearment. Her father sometimes called her his little girl (even now), and Margaery used words such as 'honey', 'darling', 'sweetheart' - but this was different.

"I like it," she said, "but, FYI, I have a name."

He only flashed his grin at her and sipped at his water. "So what do you study?" he asked her.

"Fashion. It's been my passion all my life. I'd like to be a big name in the industry one day, but even just getting coffee and bagels for a great designer would make me happy. I just love it so much!"

The waitress arrived with their dishes, and their conversation continued between bites. Sansa told him more about her plans, and he shared funny stories starring patrons of King's Landing drunk off their asses. Sansa smiled and laughed. She enjoyed speaking with him and she enjoyed the food.

"Lemon cakes time," she announced.

A plate stood before them, bearing the two gold-coloured sweets. Sansa eyed them hungrily, Sandor a little doubtfully.

"You try first," Sansa said playfully.

He gazed at her. He looked as though he was going to put his hand in a pit of snakes. He put a spoonful in his mouth and started chewing. Sansa watched him, interested and amused. She knew that she was being rude, but she couldn't take her eyes off his lips. On one side they were scarred and almost non-existent. But on the other side they looked soft and smooth.

He swallowed and hummed. "It's good," he said.

She smiled. For some reason she felt nice that he liked something that she liked. She started eating her own lemon cake, savouring its taste on her tongue.

* * *

When she saw the bike - Stranger, she reminded herself - again, some of her giddiness evaporated. Not because the prospect of the ride made her nervous, but because it would be the ride home. Stranger was pointing out that their date was coming to an end.

She wasn't afraid this time, but she still held on to him tightly. Partly because it was better to be safe than sorry, and partly because she liked the proximity of their bodies. Sandor definitely didn't seem to mind and he didn't make any comment afterwards.

"This was really nice," she said, handing him the helmet almost reluctantly.

His hand brushed hers as he took it and she shivered at his touch as the electricity between them became palpable. She licked her lips.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "You should come by the club again, we can talk during my break and then maybe you could ride Stranger again."

She smiled and bit her lip. "Yeah, sure." She could tell that he was a little nervous, but she also thought that he had in mind certain things that they could do after a ride on Stranger. She caught herself not minding that at all.

"Thank you," she said, "for a lovely night. And for the ride."

He merely nodded.

Some instinct made her stand on her toes and kiss his cheek. Sandor seemed to be pleasantly surprised. Even Sansa was taken aback; she had always been shy.

"Um, see you," she said.

"Yeah," was his reply, and it sounded almost like a moan.

Sansa walked away from him. This time she didn't feel that she had done something inappropriate. This time she felt good.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the late update, but I was suffering from writer's block.

To **anon**: Thank you for your review, I hope you'll keep loving it!

To **littleimaginatio**: Thank you! I'm glad you like it and I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

To** charlieforren**: Thank you! I'm glad you like the idea! I knew I couldn't be the only one who thinks that bouncer Sandor is hot. I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

Margaery would not allow her to leave any of the details out, and Sansa, happily and with a strong feeling of excitement, told her friend everything. As she shared her memories with the Tyrell girl, they all came back to her mind. She vividly remembered what it felt like to wrap her arms around him, to kiss his cheek.

"You go, girl!" Margaery exclaimed when they got to the kissing part of the story.

Sansa blushed. "You don't think that maybe it was...too much?"

Margaery raised an eyebrow. "Too much? Are you kidding? I don't think I've ever ended a first date with just a kiss on the cheek. Either it's a complete failure and nothing happens, or there's at least a kiss on the mouth...Honestly, I'm surprised."

"Surprised?" Sansa was most definitely not easy and slutty, and her friend knew that very well; so why should she be surprised?

"Well, yeah. I mean, when you see the Hound, you expect him to take women to trashy places - if he bothers to go out on a date with them in the first place - then fuck their brains out and end of story."

Sansa bit her lip. She supposed that she must be getting reddish on the face again, but this time there was a different reason behind it. "Don't judge a book by its cover," she said coldly.

Margaery raised her arms in surrender. "Hey, I'm not accusing him of anything. I'm just saying that he looks tough, like a bad boy, but with you he was nervous and nice."

Sansa worried her lower lip with her teeth again. Truth be told, Sansa wouldn't strike you as the sort of man who would be chaste and all knightly on the first date, and although she didn't want to think of him like that, he did seem to be the kind of guy who looked for just sex, no strings attached.

"Anyway," she began in an attempt to shake this sort of thoughts off, "he told me that I should drop by the club again."

"And you will," Margaery said immediately. "Just not too soon. You don't want to come out as desperate. We should go in a couple of days, I think."

"We?"

"Well, yes. I'm not going to let you go alone - but I will give you two privacy, don't worry. Plus, Loras told me that he's gonna go soon, so we can go with him."

Loras. Sansa would have been so excited a few days past. She would already be thinking what to wear, mentally rejecting one outfit after the other. Now she merely nodded, with a small smile painted on her beautiful face. Actually, she was thinking about what to wear on their outing, but not because she wanted to impress Loras. it was because she wanted to look good for Sandor.

Up until recently, Sansa's heart would skip a beat at the lightest touch of Margaery's brother. Now, she was glad that her handsome friend would be with them - but that was it. Now, it was Sandor she was looking forward to seeing. She felt as though her crush on Loras had happened centuries ago.

For some reason, Margaery looked happy at Sansa's reaction. Whenever the redhead got excited about seeing Loras, Margaery's smile held a hint of sadness. Not anymore, though. Sansa wondered what that might mean, but she didn't puzzle over it for long. Maybe her friend hadn't been in a very god mood those past times. Maybe.

* * *

Sansa was walking confidently, sandwiched between Margaery and Loras. She could smell their perfumes, different yet harmonious, overwhelming but mostly intoxicating. Margaery's locks brushed her bare arm as they walked, and Loras's curls tickled her cheek when a soft breeze guided them to her face.

And then she saw him. Tall, muscular, brooding. Black hair and black clothes. Hard face and steel eyes.

"Here's your Prince Charming, little one," Loras whispered in Sansa's ear and nudged her on the elbow.

Sansa giggled. Margaery wasn't the only one who knew anymore; her brother knew as well, and Sansa herself had told him. It had been so liberating to tell her ex crush about her new crush (if she could call the Hound that). Loras had looked genuinely happy for her.

And then he had dropped the bomb.

"Sansa, it really moves me that you trust me enough to share this with me. It's only fair that I share my secret with you...I'm gay."

Sansa had been so surprised that she hadn't said a word.

"My family...I know that they'll never accept me for who I am, so I've kept it a secret. I've only told Marg because I knew she'd understand. And I was right. She told me that she loves me just the way I am and that she'll keep my secret...When she realised that you were interested in me, she wanted to tell you but she couldn't because of her promise to me. She had to choose between her brother and her best friend. I thought about telling you myself, but I didn't know how you'd react. I still don't."

She had looked at him for a while without speaking. The man she had once dreamed of marrying was a homosexual? She didn't know how she should feel. Was she stupid for not having understood something? She hoped that her friends hadn't laughed at her for it. Loras had just said that they had wanted to tell her in order to prevent her from getting her heart broken.

And then she remembered Renly. Loras had appeared to be really close to that man who made him smile and laugh. Loras was her friend, she wanted him to be happy; and he seemed to be just that with Renly.

So now, Sansa was with the Tyrell siblings, smiling and laughing with them. After the revelations and the acceptance from all sides, it felt like their bond had become stronger. There were no secrets separating them. Now they could be truly happy with each other and for each other.

When Sandor opened the door of King's Landing for them, she smiled sweetly at him. His eyes focused on her only, but they were hard. Sansa felt a shiver run through her spine, but she tried to convince herself that it was nothing. Maybe he had thought that her friends didn't know about him and so had decided to show no warmth to her. The Tyrells didn't say a thing about it.

Everything would be clear when she saw him on his break.

* * *

She paid attention to her friends, but she also kept looking around for Sandor. She had to see him. Not only because she had missed him, but also because she had this terrible feeling that there was something wrong.

And then she spotted him. He discreetly gestured to her to follow him and, after explaining herself to the Tyrells, she did. She got out of the back door and there he was, the only person in the dark street.

She was so inexperienced in relationships that she didn't quite know what to do. She wanted to run in his embrace and feel his strong arms around her. However, she wasn't certain whether that was appropriate.

He got her out of her dilemma with his words.

"Don't ever come here again."

She blinked. His tone was harsh, his words unexplained and hurtful. "What? Why?" Her tone was almost shrill.

"You come here with that pretty boy whispering in your ear. You giggle right in front of me. What do you think I am, blind?"

His rasping voice made her take a step back. Her body was touching the wall now and his tone and eyes scared her, but she would stand her ground. "Sandor, you don't understand," she said.

"So I'm stupid as well as blind!"

"That's not what I said -" she started desperately. Why couldn't he understand? Why did he have to misinterpret everything? Why couldn't things be nice and pretty like they were in the songs?

He rushed to her, almost like a predator attacking his prey. He placed his hands on the wall, next to her head, and leaned in to her. She could see his scars perfectly, but that was not what scared her. His grey eyes, full of hate and anger, were terrible to behold.

That's just your type, isn't it?" His voice was lower, just above a whisper, and dangerous. "Boys like him make your cunt all soaking wet."

"Please, Loras is..." She stopped herself short right before telling him Loras's secret; she could not betray him like that. "Loras is just a friend."

"And what am I? A bet? A dare from your slutty friend?"

Sansa was overwhelmed. She felt like she was drowning. She wanted to defend Margaery and explain how she felt about Loras without exposing his big secret. She wanted to make Sandor see the truth. She wanted him to understand what he meant for her.

All she managed to do was utter a weak, "Please..."

He looked at her like he loathed her. And then he looked at her like he wanted nothing more in the whole world than to hold her. Sansa looked at him, watching the transformation of his expression enthralled, until there was nothing but sadness on his face.

"I don't ever want to see you again." And with that, he got back into the club, leaving her all alone in the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the long wait, guys, I'm a terrible person. The truth is, first I had no inspiration, then I thought that this fic was lame and didn't want to continue it. I'm still not happy with it. I'm literally writing this for you lovely people, as a way to thank you for your support. So, feel free to leave any recommendations on what should happen next in your reviews!_

* * *

Sansa could not remember a time when she was as down in the dumps as she was now. She hadn't been like that even when her sister stained her beautiful, brand new dress a few years ago.

She had been depressed, all right. After the Joffrey incident. Her parents didn't know the whole truth. Joffrey had tried to make her his on multiple occasions during high school, but her best friend Jeyne Poole had always come to the rescue.

But now Jeyne had vanished from Sansa's life. She had fallen in love with an older man named Beric Dondarrion, Sansa knew, but somehow she doubted that this was the reason for her friend's absence. She would have sent one text after another about her bae, but instead there had been nothing.

So, Sansa had started college life all by herself, with no friends and a haunting past. And yet, the gods had smiled on her for once, and she was now friends with Margaery and Loras. That was enough to make her forget the way that sometimes one of her teachers, Petyr Baelish, would look at her. He was merely looking after her because he was her mother's friend, she kept telling herself; however, Margaery would never leave her alone with him, and she was actually grateful for that.

But Margaery could not help her this time. Sandor, the only good man in her life apart from her father, wanted nothing to do with her. It was all one terrible misunderstanding, but Sansa could not explain to him because she did not have his phone number. She doubted that he would listen to her anyway.

"I had the most delicious dream last night," Margaery said over her cup of coffee. "I dreamed that I was in _Shame_ and Michael Fassbender - well, Michael Fassbender's character - fucked my brains out."

"That's great," Sansa commented, sounding as alive as a corpse.

Margaery sighed. "Listen, I know you're down, but I'm trying to cheer you up here. I hate seeing you like this."

Sansa knew that and appreciated it. She hadn't felt like going out for coffee, but her friend had told her that some fresh air would do her good. She supposed that it was better than mopping around in the flat, but she didn't feel a lot better.

"I'm sorry," she said and offered a small smile. "I know you're trying, and thank you for that - but...it's a bit too soon for me to just get over all this."

Margaery looked at her with great concern. She had never been in a serious relationship, so she didn't know what Sansa was going through first hand, but she could imagine. She had comforted her brother after his rare fights with Renly, so it wasn't that hard for her to understand. Sure, Sansa hadn't really been in a relationship with the Hound, but it was obvious that there had been feelings there - and not just from her side. Margaery was certain that the Hound did not treat all women like that.

She didn't give up. She dragged her auburn-haired friend to bars, they had their nails done - but nothing. Sansa's laughter was a hollow sound, and her smile was forced most of the times.

Sansa would tell her friend to go out and leave her behind, but Margaery would have none of it. Sansa was pleasantly surprised actually; she had expected that her friend would go out by herself even for a couple of hours in order to flirt with random guys and get free drinks. However, she did not. And that meant the world to Sansa.

And that was why she hated herself for forgetting Marg's approaching birthday. She had decided to focus on nothing apart from her studies, so she had completely lost track of time. She often was not aware of what day it was.

Fortunately, Loras came to the rescue. He reminded her of the big day with a phone call.

"So, I was thinking about throwing her a surprise party," Loras was saying over the other line. "What do you think?"

"I think it would be great!" Sansa replied enthusiastically, hoping that her voice had not given away the fact that she hadn't made any plans for her friend's birthday because she had completely forgot about it.

"Cool. Hey, can we meet at Starbucks in about fifteen minutes to talk about this? We can't organise this by the phone."

"Sure, see you there."

After hanging up, Sansa felt something close to excited. She finally had a purpose. She finally had something to do. And she would make sure that the party would be abso-fucking-lutely awesome; she owed as much to Margaery.

But first she had to lie to her.

"I'm going out for a walk. Get some fresh air, you know."

Margaery looked up from the magazine she had been leafing. "Okay," she said, "if that's what you want."

Sansa hated lying to Marg. She had told that girl everything. And she had done so much for Sansa. Not being honest with her felt so wrong, but it was for a good cause.

Sansa entered the much loved coffee shop, ready to come up with totally amazing for the surprise party. Loras spotted her and waved at her, so she walked to his table. And there she was met with a surprise.

Loras was not alone. There was a man sitting opposite him. He had his back on her, but Sansa was certain of one thing: he was not Renly. That man was broader, his hair was longer, he was dressed in black...No, it couldn't be.

The moment that Sansa finally reached the table - she felt as though she had been walking towards it for hours - Loras stood up. "Hey, Sansa," he greeted her with a big smile on his youthful, handsome face. "Um, I'll leave you two alone."

And with that, he got his Caramel Macchiato in his hand and left.

Sansa didn't know what to do. What was going on? She should run after Loras, asking him for an explanation.

Then, the man turned his head. "Sit, little bird."

Her heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him after all. He was just like she remembered, with his shoulder-length black hair, grey eyes, and burn scars. There was something different, though: he looked sad. Big man though he was, at the moment he looked like a lost puppy.

She wanted to sit with him. She wanted to talk to him, to explain everything. She wanted to make him understand and have things back to the way they used to be.

And yet...What that really a wise choice? She had tried hard to stop thinking about him; she didn't want another fight. What if she told him everything but he believed nothing? And how exactly could she tell him everything, how could she make it clear to him that nothing would ever happen between her and Loras without betraying her friend's secret?

"Please," he added.

The tone of his voice and the look on his face made her make up her mind - that, and that one word. She was sure that he didn't use it often. She sat across from him, right where Loras had been. She found a cup there, with her name on it. She looked at it quizzically.

"The Tyrell boy ordered it for you," Sandor explained. "Cinnamon something."

"Cinnamon Dolce Latte," Sansa said and felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. She hadn't had one in a while. She loved that beverage; and with soy milk and no whip, it wasn't that bad for her figure - about 200 calories per tall cup.

She took a sip to collect her thoughts. All this time she had wanted an opportunity to make things right; but now that she had it, she didn't really know what to say. She hadn't prepared what she would say. No words came out of her mouth for her rescue; she felt like everything she could say was stuck on her throat.

In the end, it was Sandor who spoke first. "He told me everything."

Sansa blinked rapidly in surprise. "What?"

"The Tyrell boy - he told me the truth. I thought that his sister was the only flower in the family. Guess I was wrong."

Sansa was too taken aback to tell him that he shouldn't refer to Loras like that. What had her friend done? Had he really spilled the beans to Sandor? Had he seriously risked everything so that Sansa could have a second chance with the Hound?

"He...he actually told you?"

"Aye. Didn't believe one bit of his story at first...but he convinced me in the end."

Sansa was still in shock. Loras had literally sacrificed himself for her happiness. She was overwhelmed. Nothing she ever did would be enough to repay him, to show him how much this meant to her.

"So, do you believe me now?"

"Aye...but..."

One word, three letters - and yet it could hurt someone so much. "But what?"

"But I was right, wasn't I? He's your type, that's the sort of men you're attracted to."

Sansa was in turmoil. She wanted to tell him the sweetest things that came to her mind, caress his cheek and hold his hand. On the other hand, she also wanted to scream at him for being so dense. How could he still not see it?

"I'm not going to lie to you," she said calmly, even though she was afraid of how he might take her words. "I had a crush on Loras. I guess you could say that he's my type. But most of the guys that are 'my type' are either vain and arrogant or...or unkind." She thought of Joffrey and added: "Or both...I hadn't dated in quite a while before you. I was scared if you at first. But...you're nice to me. You make me feel safe. That's my type now. I want someone who makes me feel good. I want you."

Maybe she had said too much, she thought. The two of them barely even had a thing, and there she was, saying that she wanted him. Maybe she should take a generous sip of her Cinnamon Dolce Latte and hope that she would choke on it.

"Do you mean that?" he asked her. He sounded so uncertain, so vulnerable. She was certain that he hadn't had much luck with the fair sex throughout the years, and that made her sad. She didn't feel sorry for him; she knew that he would hate being pitied. She would too.

"Yes," she said.

He nodded and cleared his throat. Apparently, after saying 'please', he would say something else he didn't say often. Sansa felt special.

"I'm sorry," he said, "for how I behaved that night. I was just..."

Jealous. Sansa would love to hear that word, because don't get jealous if they do not care. Nevertheless, he knew that admitting to it wouldn't be easy for him. She couldn't ask that of him. He had pleaded with her, apologised to her, revealed his insecurity to her; he had already done more than enough.

"It's okay," she said, filling the silence. "Just as long as you understand it's you I want to be with."

He nodded but said nothing. She knew that her words had not turned him into a confident man over the passage of a few seconds, but she hoped that he understood now. She really did want to be with him. It was crazy, too early, too soon - but it was also the truth. And she couldn't hide from the truth.

"Come on, let's get a proper drink."

All of a sudden, as if waking from a trance, she noticed their surroundings. She doubted that Sandor would ever be caught dead having a Caramel Apple Cider or a White Chocolate Mocha. A giggle erupted from her mouth, but she managed to stifle it behind her palm.

"Okay," she said with a smile on her beautiful face. This one was not forced.


End file.
